Triplet Piece
by Trace Sukirata
Summary: A Miqo'te that knows who they are and where they came from. An Ascian that decided to give a pale imitation a chance. An Adventurer that never asked for any of it. A quieter piece, written quickly, and ended quickly: Three Characters, Three Chapters, Three Moments. For who, exactly, gets to chose their lot in life in the first place?
1. Chapter 1 - Crystal Exarch

1 - Crystal Exarch

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"Let expanse contract, Eon become instant."

The incantation was, in truth, spoken mainly for myself: a sort of mnemonic to guide my muscle memories from step to step. A declared statement accompanies an action - a sequence of statements linked to sequences of actions. A careful, measured manipulation of Aether - to make possible the impossible.

It was in this way that I stole the Warrior of Light from the Source and brought them to the First.

When I woke, I knew that I would not find them: millennia would have passed, and that guiding star of mine would have long since left my sky. I had long since resolved to carry on in their memory, guiding the world as it grew in the same way that they had guided me: just as they had been my guiding star, at the very least, I could be a torch in a cave.

One can imagine how it felt to learn that millennia had been mere centuries; in ruins, the world my guiding star tried to save. One by one, the civilizations had crumbled, leaving behind a wasteland ruled by those who had the strength to take what they wished. It wasn't too inexplicable: perhaps this was why I had been woken so early. People are fickle existences - and perhaps they sought to use the tower to unify the remnants of sanity that yet remained. Of course, I soon learned the truth behind this unforgiving reality.

My guiding star had never left my sky - rather, they were extinguished before they could leave my horizon. They, like so many countless others, had simply ceased to exist at the touch of the thorns of a Black Rose. Their life aether growing still and tranquil - the pall of death.

I had been woken to save what could be saved - and to throw away what couldn't. Contrary to what I might have told anyone, the Eighth Umbral Calamity was never undone: rather, it was simply avoided. The world that sent me continues to be doomed - but this was their wish: to save what could be saved - and to allow a legend to return to life. So that the story that the world would never know could continue, they sent me to be its architect.

And so.

"Champions from beyond the Rift, heed my call."

I am not their Raha - and they are not my Warrior of Light.

But they are my guiding star all the same.


	2. Chapter 2 - Emet-Selch

2 - Emet-Selch

The art of 'Creation' is a fickle thing to say the least. Equal parts beautiful and dangerous. When measured and controlled, the things one can create astound the mind, creating wonders the likes of which are entirely unique by the inherent nature of its conception. Of course, when plagued by fear, the self becomes one's worst enemy as horror upon horror are layered upon each other, creating an abominable amalgamate of the 'worst things one can imagine' - until that 'thing' becomes beyond imagining.

Ascians are well-versed in this art to say the least: it is our birthright. The birthright of every Amaurotine, in fact.

How few of them remain.

I remember when the world came to its end. Half of our people gave their lives to save it - and another half gave their lives to restore the life upon its surface. How many people would willingly give up half their number to save the other half? To do so twice? We Ascians are eternal, yes, but we are not immortal. Even the notion of giving up one's life to achieve something - _anything_ \- is a sacrifice beyond measure.

How exactly do I explain this to you, someone who doesn't - couldn't understand the notion of 'eternity'?

But perhaps its for this very reason that only we are qualified to be the caretakers of this Star. Only _we_ have understanding necessary, the compassion - we are not heartless, compared to what you imitations might think - but only we _truly_ understand the gravity of a life. Only we understand the burden of caring for this beautiful world. Only we understand the horror that could arise from being so careless. Only we truly understand.

It's frustrating, knowing that what we were is succeeded by such pale, incomplete imitations - knowing that our people gave up their lives for something so short-sighted as you. It's almost inconceivable to know that even more of our people gave up their lives _to protect you._

But only almost.

Ascians are anything but close-minded, of course. We have an eternity to consider, and begrudging, unabiding disagreements are nothing but a tiresome burden. It's why I decided to give you a chance: to prove to me that you were worthy to succeed us.

Come, Warrior of Light, seven times rejoined: show me the answer you have to offer.


	3. Chapter 3 - Warrior of Light

3 - Warrior of Light

To be quite honest, I never asked for this.

I'm just an adventurer. You'll hear my story some thousands of times if not far more: a traveler shows up in Gridania - shows up in Ul'dah - shows up in Limsa Lominsa. They are a Conjurer, Archer, Lancer, Gladiator, Pugilist, Thaumaturge, Marauder, Arcanist, Rogue - they aren't special, just your average, everyday adventurer. They learn a bit, grow a bit stronger, learn some more, grow some more… So on and so forth.

It's a story that's been told some millions of times if not far more. Each individual their own main character. They see side characters, they grow close to other side characters - who become main characters. They'll struggle. They'll fail. They'll get back up. Sometimes they won't. Sometimes they're buried in a lichyard. Some have a family to speak of - others' first memories are of being on the street when the sky comes falling down.

I still remember the lights of the Seventh Umbral Calamity: I was on the street at the time. It's where I lived, after all. No home to speak of other than the ground beneath my feet and the sky above my head. It wasn't all bad. Work was easy enough, despite how frail I was. Some days were better than others, and others were worse. Dust storms aren't comfortable, but rain is water to drink. Then again, it wasn't as if I couldn't just walk to a river: the rain simply made it easier.

Needless to say, the day of the Seventh Umbral Calamity wasn't really a good day. In fact, I could probably say that it was one of the bad ones. Easily not the worst, though it probably was for a lot of people - but I didn't have much to lose in the first place. If anything, the sky raining fire was warm enough, and I dodged the falling rubble easily enough. Even when I messed up and I found myself fading, I knew that there would probably be good work the following day. Nothing quite like a disaster to spur public employment, and employment means better than normal food.

Of course, the following day was when my sister adopted me. That was definitely a good day. In fact, that was probably the 'goodest' day I had ever had, to put it in my thoughts at the time. I didn't get to work, admittedly, but that was because my adopted sister didn't let me because she kept saying I was too badly injured to do so. She asked me for my family, and I told her where they buried them. While I didn't quite understand why she was crying, she said that I was now her sister. I wasn't one to argue, of course: it was nice having a family again, so I agreed.

Then again, I guess I never asked for the good memories either.

I've been given so many things that I never asked for, now that I look back on my life. Some of them are good things, some of them are bad: an aptitude for white magic, an aptitude for black magic, an aptitude to quickly learn and use virtually any weapon or tool, something called an 'Echo', positions of respect, connections to political leaders, accusations of hurting someone I respected, a challenge by a death-obsessed prince, so many countless friends, mysterious enemies, a knight-

Ah yes. That reminds me.

I was also given a smile.

To be quite honest, I never asked for this - I never asked for any of this. Some choose to be great, others have it thrust upon them. In my case, I would've been content living my life out with my sister, doing whatever chores she asked of me - but now I stand with her on the front lines, playing the part of the heroes who save the world. I don't entirely mind, but I wish that we never had to step into danger in the first place. I think that I'd've had many more good days just staying at home with her - or going shopping with her, or just living a normal life with her.

But who exactly gets to choose their lot in life in the first place?

In the end, fate may be cruel - but a smile better suits a hero.


End file.
